When I gave the captain his mother's gift (it was in my room), he asked me for some wrapping-paper, carefully tied it up, and put it away. I gave him many details of his mother's life: the captain was silent. When I had finished, he went into a corner, and took a very long time in filling his pipe.
"Yes, she's a fine old lady," said he from the corner, in a rather choked voice: "God grant that we may meet again!"
Great love and grief were expressed in these simple words.
"Why do you serve here?" I asked.
"Have to serve," he replied with decision. "And double pay means a good deal for our brother, who is a poor man."
The captain lived economically; he did not play cards, he rarely drank to excess, and he smoked ordinary tobacco, which from some inexplicable reason he did not call by its usual name,[7] but sambrotalicheski tabák. The captain had pleased me even before this. He had one of those simple, calm Russian faces, and looked you straight in the eye agreeably and easily. But after this conversation I felt a genuine respect for him.
[1] Nabég (pronounced Na-be-ukh), the Invasion or Raid.
[2] One and a third miles.
[3] An affectionate diminished diminutive: Pavel (Paul), Pasha, Pashenka.
[4] ládanka, the bag containing sacred things worn by the pious, together with the baptismal cross.